


Cover Story

by Linorien



Series: 007 Fest 2016 [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Fake Dating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7577581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bond needs to pretend to be dating for a dinner on a mission and finds it harder than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Story

**Author's Note:**

> Trope Week: Fake dating for a mission  
> I hope this slightly different spin on the trope is fun.

“What am I allowed to call you? Darling? Honey?”

“Any of those. I’m partial to Sweetheart myself.”

He sighed. “This is not going to go well. I can already tell.”

“Just relax. It’s only for the dinner tonight and the drinks afterwards. Then I will go back to Six and you can continue on with the mission. By yourself, like you like it.”

“I know. It just feels wrong.”

“Trust your instincts. Let’s go.”

***

They stepped out of the lift, onto the marble floor of the hotel. Arms linked, they descended the grand staircase into the dining hall. Although the meal had not yet begun, many people were there and heads turned in their direction.

“James Bond and his plus one,” the agent told the hostess at the bottom of the stairs.

“Follow me please, sir.” The sea of people watched their passage to their designated seats, Bond’s sharp white dinner jacket complimenting Eve’s pale blue dress perfectly. Their seats were at the best table in the room, the hosts and Bond’s target would also be seated with them. Bond pulled out her chair for her and she gave him a peck on the cheek as he sat next to her. It felt wrong. Bond resolved to sit in awkward silence until he was asked to speak. Hopefully that would not be until his target arrived. Unfortunately, it was the unimportant people also at their table who started the small talk.

“How long have you been with your wife, Mr. Bond?” the wife of the other couple asked.

“Five months now,” Bond replied without hesitation. This was in their mission brief. “Although we had been dancing around each other for a while.”

“Oh, my husband took forever to finally ask me out as well,” she replied. “George didn’t seem to realize I liked him too. My friends had to sit him down and knock some sense into him. Was that the case with you as well?”

“Not quite,” Eve answered. “We are both just so busy with work that neither of us had thought about a serious relationship.” Eve rubbed his arm affectionately and he fought the urge to slap her hand away. “We went out for lunches sometimes, but didn’t think much of it.”

“How did you meet then, Mr. Bond?” a new voice asked. It was the host joining them with his wife. Bond suddenly couldn’t think of an answer. He took a sip of his drink to disguise his hesitancy.

“In an art gallery,” Q suddenly spoke up in his ear. “It is where we met after all.”

“We met in an art gallery,” Bond parroted. “By chance really. It was a work related outing, but I didn’t know who was going to be there; I had just returned from a holiday.” This could work. Any unplanned questions, just pretend they were asking about him and Q together.

“Where did you holiday?”

“A small island off the coast of Africa, I can’t remember the specific name at the moment.”

“He still hasn’t taken me to any exotic places despite his promises that I will see white sand someday,” Eve teased.

“And why not?” the host’s wife inquired.

“The cats don’t like the plane.” Bond remembered asking Q the same thing once. Q then challenged him to get his felines into the travelling containers.

“That’s too bad.”

“It’s alright, we go out for lots of dinners locally and take weekend excursions when our schedule allows for it.” Bond had now found his footing and was steering the conversation where he needed it to go. All he needed was an invitation to the host’s summer villa for the next day and then the mission would be a breeze from there.

***

“So do you think Eve sussed us out?” Q asked later that night when Bond was alone in the hotel room and Eve was safely on her flight home.

“I don’t think so,” the agent replied. “I think she chalked it up to my preference for solo missions.”

“Or maybe she thought it was hard for you to pretend to be in a steady, monogamous relationship.”

“I told you, I feel bad that I must do this to you.”

“James.” Q’s voice lost its playful tone. “I told you this was alright. It will take some getting used to, but as your quartermaster, I know it is sometimes necessary. I’ve handled plenty of your missions before and read the records of the ones before me to know that you get results. Even if your methods seem daft in the moment.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, yet the corners of his lips twitched up. Bond lay back on the bed while Q continued.

“I told you that this would be an obstacle we both have to face if we aren’t going to tell anyone that we are dating yet. Which I still don’t understand why we can’t tell them unofficially at least.” Bond opened his mouth to respond. “No, don’t even. That is an argument for another time. Right now, you need to take a shower and go to sleep. I want this mission done and wrapped as neatly as possible so I can have you all to myself again.”

“When you put it like that,” Bond grinned even though Q could not see him. “I will try to make it home as soon as possible. Minimal destruction so that you have time to spend with me and the cats.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Good night, James.”

“Good night, Q.”

  
  



End file.
